Here we are, 2:21 am on Election Night. I'm still awake, awaiting the results of the governor's race in my home state. I'm out on my feet but won't be able to sleep until all the ballots are counted. Nights like this make me miss working in news.
Yes, Election Night can go on much too long. Yes, it leaves everyone simultaneously wired and overtired. But it's a good kind of tired, and when all the work is done there's a tremendous sense of accomplishment -- like you've served the public good.
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For some reason -- probably because it's really late, it's eight hours since dinner and I'm hungry -- I'm reminded of a long-ago Election Night when I was still a cub reporter.
I was assigned to a county courthouse in our listening area and the evening began smoothly enough. I did a couple of live reports in the hour before the polls closed, nice and easy. But it soon became clear there were problems with the voting machines. Potentially calamitous problems.
Repeated troubleshooting efforts were ineffective. The hours dragged on. I had to do two reports each hour, and after the polls closed my next six drops were little more than updates on the uncooperative machines and the fruitless attempts to get them back in working order.
Finally, at a little before 11:00 pm and with a loud sigh, the county clerk conceded the machine problems couldn't be solved and the thousands of ballots would have to be counted by hand. The results, expected to be wrapped up no later than 11:30, wouldn't be ready until after 2:00 or 3:00 am. Or later.
The clerk apologized profusely and asked if I'd like something to eat. I said yes. She led me to an empty office down the hall, where the staff had set up a potluck buffet. It was an oasis in a desert of fatigue. Veggies, a sausage tray, cookies, brownies, meatballs, chips and cheese dip ... and coffee and caffeinated beverages of all kinds. Paradise.
Fueled and amped, we all made it through. The ballots got counted, I did my last drop, bid our listeners a very fond good night, packed up my gear and headed out the door.
It was 3:50 am and it would be hours before I could fall asleep. The next day was an absolute fog.
But the staff wouldn't let me leave without a big bag of leftovers to take home.
That was the best result of the night.
Yes, Election Night can go on much too long. Yes, it leaves everyone simultaneously wired and overtired. But it's a good kind of tired, and when all the work is done there's a tremendous sense of accomplishment -- like you've served the public good.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
For some reason -- probably because it's really late, it's eight hours since dinner and I'm hungry -- I'm reminded of a long-ago Election Night when I was still a cub reporter.
I was assigned to a county courthouse in our listening area and the evening began smoothly enough. I did a couple of live reports in the hour before the polls closed, nice and easy. But it soon became clear there were problems with the voting machines. Potentially calamitous problems.
Repeated troubleshooting efforts were ineffective. The hours dragged on. I had to do two reports each hour, and after the polls closed my next six drops were little more than updates on the uncooperative machines and the fruitless attempts to get them back in working order.
Finally, at a little before 11:00 pm and with a loud sigh, the county clerk conceded the machine problems couldn't be solved and the thousands of ballots would have to be counted by hand. The results, expected to be wrapped up no later than 11:30, wouldn't be ready until after 2:00 or 3:00 am. Or later.
The clerk apologized profusely and asked if I'd like something to eat. I said yes. She led me to an empty office down the hall, where the staff had set up a potluck buffet. It was an oasis in a desert of fatigue. Veggies, a sausage tray, cookies, brownies, meatballs, chips and cheese dip ... and coffee and caffeinated beverages of all kinds. Paradise.
Fueled and amped, we all made it through. The ballots got counted, I did my last drop, bid our listeners a very fond good night, packed up my gear and headed out the door.
It was 3:50 am and it would be hours before I could fall asleep. The next day was an absolute fog.
But the staff wouldn't let me leave without a big bag of leftovers to take home.
That was the best result of the night.
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